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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27131251">gentle fictions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordbirthdayxv/pseuds/lordbirthdayxv'>lordbirthdayxv</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>All Flowers in Time [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Monsta X (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Death, Depression, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:41:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27131251</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordbirthdayxv/pseuds/lordbirthdayxv</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Suicidal and delirious, Kihyun stumbles into a peep-show club and encounters a fantasy bathed in purple smoke.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Im Changkyun | I.M/Yoo Kihyun, past kihyun/shownu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>All Flowers in Time [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>gentle fictions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>kihyun is sad and i am sorry</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He makes the first mistake when he opens his eyes. </p><p>The ceiling lies miles above his head, glimmering its faraway light as if taunting him for finally taking the plunge. It is cold. But that is to be expected. His fingers have already gone numb and as he looks up, he feels frost slowly spreading outwards from the corners of his nose to his cheeks. Dazed, he takes a deep breath.</p><p>It is his second mistake.</p><p>Water floods his nose with the stinging of a hundred needles. His arms flail for purchase and slip against the wet sides of the tub. His body is frozen and his head is starting to feel like it has detached itself from his shoulders and is floating away to warmer, happier places. </p><p>A final kick and his hand manages to wrap around the stem of the showerhead behind him. He gasps like a newborn child, gulping in mouthfuls of air as he hangs himself half over the edge of the tub. All around him, the bathroom with its gleaming marble and soft golden lighting watches, smug and condescending. He looks down at his hand and it is still closed tight. It takes conscious effort to pry it open, to smooth out the crumpled map of his past life. </p><p>Tethers of memory-twine stretched to breaking point.</p><p>He pulls himself out of what was supposed to be his watery casket. Coughs up water as more sloshes around in his head that has swollen into a gigantic grape filled with grief-juice. It pours out of his eyes and runs, wet and sticky and purple down his chin. He is used to feeling like this. His purple grape of a grief-swollen head that has memories floating around like sharp bones in a chicken broth when he does his customary nods.</p><p>One must always be polite, even if one is thinking of ending things. </p><p>He drags himself on shaky legs to his bed and makes an ocean out of it. Lays his head upon his pillow and feels its brittleness like a soft baby-skull caved in. Tries to keep his head above water but it is much too heavy. It trickles its grief-juice from the corners of his eyes and drowns his pillow. He tries to wallow in it but the ocean doesn’t want him and belches him back out on his bed. To be rebuffed so by one’s own pain! But he is stubborn despite his soft head and goes fishing in the sea of sorrow with dreams upon his hook. Baits the sea so it can baptize his pain. </p><p>It is no use. Pain is born holy.</p><p> </p><p>His arm keeps shaking. </p><p>He has it stretched out in front of him, fist tightly clenched and all those soft veins standing out like an illuminated road map under his skin. He knows exactly what road to take. But his arm keeps shaking. Its sister notices and empathizes. The knife clatters to the floor and he wants to scream. Something has to hurt. Something, if not this. </p><p>So he sits slumped against the bathroom wall with this forearm gushing blood that looks too dark to be blood. It’s all wrong, the color and the place. Everything is wrong. Blood flows as grief slides happily down his juice-stained face.</p><p> </p><p>His tongue rolls around the barrel of the gun and blood rushes with an almost sexual urgency to his head. Overtakes the pain for a lovely, red second. This is easy, he thinks. Pull the trigger and it ends. No pain, no time to regret. His thumb flutters on the trigger and it is so close. But what then? He thinks of a dark tunnel that ends in bright white light. Except it’s not a tunnel. It is darkness, pressing in on all sides. And the light is not a light. It is him, suspended in a black vacuum and he realizes that he fears the nothingness on the other side even more than the something-ness on this side.</p><p>Pathetic. </p><p>He puts the gun on the table in front of him. Puts on a jacket and goes out. Greets the doorman on his way out of the building and hails a cab. There is a bridge somewhere nearby. He supposes that second thoughts wouldn’t matter if he is drowning in water too deep to be rescued from. The city is awash with pinks and yellows. They invade the cab through the window and attempt to color him too but he feels like he already belongs to the grey of the river. The radio sings softy into his ears of a cherry red past. <em>A world inside you</em>, it reminds him, <em>no photograph.</em></p><p>But he is pulling up to the bridge and ready to leave those days of candy behind. As he steps out of the car and walks toward the bridge, the radio song follows him, pleading, and calling but It is getting dimmer by the second. By the time he wraps his hands around the railing, the song is gone and so is its appeal. It has always been this in the end. A wide open emptiness replaces blood with motes of memory-dust floating in the hollows of his veins. Somewhere in his mind, there is a familiar voice still singing the song on the radio. <em>I know a little bit of you</em>, it implores, <em>I keep it close to me.</em></p><p>No you don’t, he argues, how can you? It is I that carry you in me. I have carried you so long you are all I have left in this head of mine. It is heavy with the weight of you. Don’t you see why I must do this?</p><p>It sings. It doesn’t hear. It only speaks and sings and he wants it to end. </p><p>One foot on the lower bar and one arm over the railing. The city glides past in its colorful haze. The river below wears the calm mask of a saint, beckoning with its cold blessings. He can imagine its silty hands caress his body. Its seaweed hair, trailing lovingly across his skin. It waits, patient, certain. Confident in the knowledge that it will have him.</p><p>And yet. </p><p>And yet why should he give himself over to its impassive love? Hadn’t he given enough to the promises of summer that bloom into casual years stacked against each other on the shelves of one’s life? Hazy, wasteful, colorful years with nothing to show. The voice is back and it croons its haunting song. <em>Don’t you know me better than the rest?</em></p><p>Liar, he whispers back bitterly, everyone knows you like I do. He stares at the river and it stares back. </p><p>Languid love, why should I give you what you need?</p><p>It is dark now but the city is not asleep. It watches, its glittering eyes unblinking, as he walks its streets in a daze. Walks until the walls are grimy and the streets appear asleep in their shame. The lights are neon and they blink. Life, he thinks, there is life here. Every door looks inviting. His feet carry him to one and he leaves the cotton candy suburbia behind, steps into its serpentine underside.</p><p>There is sweet-smelling smoke in the purple corridors and he finds it going to his head. Maneuvers his way between seedy men in business suits and scantily clad women and men with slashes of red on their lips. Everyone has wide eyes. Everyone has talons for nails. Everyone smells like flowers. A man stops him. Asks for money that he slowly hands over. The man looks amazed for a second before he grins. He has certainly been overpaid but it is of little importance. The man pushes him to a booth and pulls the curtains closed behind him.</p><p>He looks around. It is a small space. There is a chair in front of a screen of glass in front of him. On the wall next to it, is a telephone and a paper towel dispenser. The space beyond the screen is set up like a scene from a retro diner. There is a door on the far wall. It is opening now and in comes a young man, dressed in a soft, mottled blue sweater. He is wearing makeup. His hair is artfully tousled. He comes forward to seat himself on the bar stool closest to the screen. Picks up the phone placed on the counter.</p><p>It occurs to him to sit as well and so he does. Picks up the phone. The voice on the other end is deep.</p><p>“Hello! I’m Daniel, I’ll be attending to you tonight. But if you have a preference, you can tell me and I can ask them to come in.”</p><p>He hesitates. “No. No, that’s fine, thank you.”</p><p>Daniel smiles. “Not a regular, then? Or just not picky?”</p><p>“It’s uh it’s my first time here.”</p><p>A giggle. Daniel leans forward. “Well, what’s your name, stranger?”</p><p>He hesitates again. Does it matter if he gives the boy his name? What if his friends find out he frequents places like this? Would they look down on him? Think his grief has made him spiral?</p><p>“…or would you rather not tell me? I mean that’s fine too, most people come here just to watch and jerk off anyway so-”</p><p>He decides he doesn’t care. “Kihyun. My name is Kihyun.”</p><p>Daniel tilts his beautiful head and smiles again. It is radiant and soft. “Nice to meet you, Kihyun. I like your voice.”</p><p>Kihyun laughs a little into the receiver. “Isn’t that what you tell everyone?”</p><p>“Well I do, it’s my job,” Daniel shrugs, “but you do have a nice voice. Makes me wonder what you look like.”</p><p>Kihyun blinks. “You… you can’t see me?”</p><p>Daniel shakes his head and sits back on the stool. Twirls the phone cord between his fingers. Every other nail is painted black. “Nope. Can’t see anything on your side. Can hear you loud and clear though. And,” his smile turns mischievous, “<em>you</em> can see <em>me</em>.”</p><p>“Yes, it appears so.”</p><p>“So formal,” Daniel tuts, “come on, lighten up. I dressed up all pretty for you. Don’t you think I’m pretty?”</p><p>Kihyun looks at his youthful face. At his cheeks scarred by remnants of adolescence. At his eyes weighed down by eyeliner and glitter but still honest and bright. He is beautiful and Kihyun tells him so. He giggles and props his chin against the palm of his hand.</p><p>“Why, thank you,” he bats his eyelashes. Leans forward again. “What would you like me to do then?”</p><p>Kihyun pauses. He is not aware of the protocol in this place. Is afraid of saying the wrong thing and degrading the boy on the other side. He clears his throat.</p><p>“I uh, I don’t… know?”</p><p>Daniel grins incredulously. “What, never been to a strip club before?”</p><p>“I… no, I never-”</p><p>“’Never had to’?” Daniel raises an eyebrow. “Satisfied home life, huh?”</p><p>Kihyun thinks of long nights alone in a cold bed. The smell of funeral wreaths and incense. Shakes his head to clear it of the image. </p><p>“You could… say that.”</p><p>“Weeeellll,” Daniel’s lip curls in a smirk. “Not so satisfied anymore, I’m guessing. I can help you with that. All you have to do is ask, baby.”</p><p>Something has shifted in the air. There is a glint in his eye as he crosses his slim ankles and taps his fingers against his chin. Kihyun clutches the phone tighter and swallows. Pauses too long.</p><p>Daniel shifts impatiently. “Okay, let me just get rid of this for starters.” His fingers grip the hem of his sweater and Kihyun scrambles to turn away.</p><p>“No! No no no please, keep it- keep it on, please!”</p><p>Daniel knits his brow in confusion. Gets off the stool. He looks offended and Kihyun curses himself for his ineptitude.</p><p>“Well, what the hell do you want? I’m not pretty enough or something? I already asked you if you had a preference, don’t fucking waste my time if you-”</p><p>“No, look please, I didn’t mean to offend or waste your time,” Kihyun says frantically, half out of his seat in desperation, “Please! Please don’t leave, I apologize for my tactlessness, please.”</p><p>Daniel glares at the mirror for a second and slowly sits back down. Kihyun breathes a sigh of relief.</p><p>“I- I’m not familiar with this,” he says, hand clenching and unclenching in his lap, “I don’t know the etiquette-”</p><p>Daniel laughs with a mixture of incredulity and derision. “’Etiquette’? What are you, a Victorian dandy? This is a strip club, dude. You look at naked people and you come. It isn’t rocket science. If that isn’t your thing, I don’t even know why you’re here.”</p><p>“I was just walking… I wasn’t expecting to come here…”</p><p>Daniel sighs. “Okay well, you’ve already paid for the hour and we’ve still got forty minutes left. What do you wanna do?”</p><p>Kihyun looks at him. He is young, beautiful. Behind a one-way mirror. But there is nothing Kihyun wants from his body. He thinks of the last time he touched himself and cannot remember when it was. The only thing he wants is to-</p><p>“Talk,” he breathes into the receiver, voice uncertain, “I want to… talk to you. Will you listen?”</p><p>Daniel blinks in confusion. Shrugs nonchalantly. “Sure, if that’s what you want. Anything in particular you wanna talk about?”</p><p>Kihyun licks his lips and shifts in his chair. What did he want to talk about? Himself? But there was nothing to tell. He was as bland as the grass beneath one’s feet, with nothing to set him apart from an average person. Even his pain, something he used to take wounded pride in, back when he was still… but there was nothing now. Nothing except the desire to die.</p><p>“I want to kill myself,” he whispers softly. Raises his eyes to meet Daniel’s. They are wide with shock and disbelief.</p><p>“You… you want to kill yourself?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Can I ask why?”</p><p>“I have nothing.”</p><p>Daniel smiles but it is tense. “Isn’t that what you tell everyone?” he repeats and Kihyun almost laughs because it is true. “Now tell me why you really want to die, Kihyun.”</p><p>Kihyun thinks for a minute. Shakes his head. “I have nothing to live for.”</p><p>“What constitutes as ‘something to live for’ in your book?” Daniel is staring directly ahead. Kihyun shifts his chair so he is in his line of sight. </p><p>“Love,” Kihyun says simply. It has always been that simple. </p><p>“What does that mean?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>Daniel moves off the stool. Carries the phone over to sit cross-legged on the floor nearer to the mirror. </p><p>“I mean,” he starts, “there’s all kinds of love. What kind of love are you talking about?”</p><p>Kihyun pauses. What kind of love, really? What did he want? What had he wanted from him? He wracks his brain for an instance where he had vocalized his needs. He comes up empty and looking back now, he cannot think of any reasonable answer except for a very selfish one.</p><p>“I-” he pauses again. Takes a deep breath. “I want to be… wanted.”</p><p>Daniel tilts his head to a side. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”</p><p>“Isn’t it?” Kihyun laughs bitterly. Reels himself in. “I’m sorry. It’s- it is a bad thing. It is so… so <em>selfish</em>.”</p><p>“And?” Daniel huffs, as if it’s the most obvious thing, “all human interaction is selfish. Look at us. I’m here because I get paid. You’re here because you’re lonely and want someone to talk to.” He peers at where he assumes Kihyun is. “Isn’t that it? You’re lonely.”</p><p>Kihyun nods. Realizes Daniel cannot see him. “Yes…” </p><p>“And you wanna be wanted. That’s fine, you know. Why wouldn’t you want that? Why wouldn’t anyone?” his eyes glitter with something strange before he blinks and it is gone.</p><p>“Is that… okay?” Kihyun asks, hesitant, “is it okay to- to want?”</p><p>He does not know why he is here, in a peep show club, asking a beautiful boy if it is okay to want. Something deep within him chides him for his thoughtlessness. The boy before him is the embodiment of want. A projection of wants and needs, a manufactured fantasy. How foolish to ask him if it was okay to want. Of course he would say yes. He has a fantasy to sell. Misplaced resentment begins to bubble in Kihyun’s gut and suddenly he sees it all for what it really is. The artificiality of the set. The threadbare bar stool. The heavy layer of makeup on Daniel’s face. His cheap sweater and tacky stockings. Was ‘Daniel’ even his real name? Kihyun’s stomach turns. A voice at the back of his head tells him he is being unduly harsh but all he wants is to get out. The hazy purple air is stifling all of a sudden and a stray nail in the chair cushion pricks his thigh. </p><p>He lurches to his feet. “I have to go.”</p><p>Daniel is startled. “What? Wait did I say something wrong? Wha-”</p><p>Kihyun replaces the receiver on the wall and hastily makes his exit.   </p><p> </p><p>He realizes his mistake as he enters his apartment. Still, it takes him one week to muster the courage to go back. Walking the narrow streets with purpose, he loses his way more than once. Chance had brought him to the purple dream where Daniel spoke behind a mirror. Chance again pushes him to his door among many similar ones lining the street. He is determined not to disappoint it this time. </p><p>He pays the appropriate amount and places his request. This booth is office themed. He sits in the chair and waits. The door finally opens and tonight, he is clad in a collared, white shirt and black slacks, glasses perched on his nose. His hair is dyed blond. </p><p>He sits down on the table with a smile and takes the receiver. “Hello there! I’m Daniel, but I guess you already know that.” He leans forward and bites his lip, “heard you asked for me specifically. Do I have another fan?”</p><p>Kihyun takes a deep breath. “Um hi. It’s me.”</p><p>Daniel blinks before his brow furrows. “You. Why the fuck are <em>you</em> here? Didn’t you turn tail and run last time?”</p><p>“I meant to apologize-”</p><p>“Doesn’t matter. I’m a stripper and you treated me like one.” He waves his hand dismissively and loosens his tie. “You down for it now? Should I strip?”</p><p>“I was hoping to talk,” Kihyun starts nervously, “not- not that you aren’t beautiful to um look at,” he adds quickly. </p><p>Daniel scoffs. “Are you fucking serious? Do you not remember your last visit?”</p><p>“I do I- It was stupid of me,” he looks at Daniel, hoping he sounds as earnest as he feels, “I was upset and it found a harsh outlet. It wasn’t fair of me. I’m so very sorry, Daniel.”</p><p>The boy in question is quiet for a moment. Simply stares at the mirror. Then sighs.</p><p>“Y’know I was worried you’d gone and killed yourself because I’d said something triggering. I’m kinda glad to see you’re okay.”</p><p>Kihyun smiles weakly. “I stopped trying. I seem to always find some flimsy excuse not to do it.” He chuckles. “I’m a coward.”</p><p>Daniel comes forward and sits on the floor again. Switches the receiver to his other ear. “Is that why you came here that day? Because you couldn’t go through with it?”</p><p>Kihyun laughs again. The bridge feels like a distant memory. “I was at the bridge, ready to jump in. And then I didn’t. Do you want to know why?”</p><p>Daniel nods. “I thought of someone I used to know. A painful memory. And the river… the river felt as indifferent as him.” He takes a deep breath and throws his head over the back of the chair. Stares at the ceiling. “At least, that is the excuse I gave myself. I dressed up my fear in a show of resilience.” He looks at Daniel. His eyebrows are knit together in confusion. Kihyun smiles to himself. “I want it to end but I can’t bring myself to do it.”</p><p>There is a long beat of silence. Daniel seems to be contemplating how best to say what he wants. Kihyun watches him with a strange fondness. Berates himself for thinking of him as a product. If anything, he was more sincere than many people Kihyun called friends. He had taken up his offer to talk. Had responded genuinely enough. And now sat there on the floor, looking adorably puzzled over an existential dilemma that wasn’t even his. Kihyun feels warmth spread in his chest as the boy bites his lip in intense concentration. He finally speaks.</p><p>“Why would you call yourself a coward?” his voice is unusually quiet. Kihyun blinks.</p><p>“Because I’m afraid.”</p><p>“Afraid of what?”</p><p>Kihyun smiles. “Pain, Daniel. I’m afraid of pain.”</p><p>“But isn’t everyone? Nobody likes pain.”</p><p>“I do.” It slips out before Kihyun can stop himself. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I- I like pain.”</p><p>“Why would you do that?” Daniel whispers, “you- why?”</p><p>Kihyun sighs. Was there any answer that wasn’t theatrical and hollow? “To feel alive, I suppose.”</p><p>Daniel scoffs. “I’m sure I’ve seen that movie.” He is silent for a long time. Kihyun watches him.</p><p>“Earlier,” he says at last, “you said something about someone you knew. Tell me about him.”</p><p>Kihyun ignores the painful twinge in his chest. “What about him?”</p><p>“I don’t know. What was he like? How did you know him?”</p><p>He has a choice here. Sitting behind the mirror in the purple gloom, he could do what he does best. Lie. Lie like all the times he heard another stranger behind his bedroom door and told himself this was okay. Like all the times he stared into disinterested eyes and told himself this was okay too. Like the time he said <em>okay</em> to <em>you knew this is what I wanted</em>. Okay. Everything was okay if he said it enough. But here, in front of a stranger, what did it really matter?</p><p>“He was my boyfriend,” he can’t say ex. Cannot bring himself to add the prefix. “Hyunwoo. We grew up together.”</p><p>“Was? Did you break up?”</p><p>“He died.” It’s okay for your voice to crack, he tells himself, that’s fine. “He died a year ago.”</p><p>Daniel grimaces. “Ah I’m so sorry, I’m asking invasive questions-”</p><p>Kihyun shakes his head. “No, no… it’s okay. It’s… fine, really.”</p><p>“Um okay uh right so,” Daniel fumbles for a bit. Twirls the phone cord. “What- what was he like?”</p><p>What was he like? Kihyun tries to picture his face. He had been handsome. Painfully so. Kihyun had wondered sometimes if he was with him because he pitied him. Kihyun had always been too much of everything. Too angry. Too prickly. Too thin and too angular. Too ordinary. Worst of all, Kihyun <em>wanted</em>. Maybe because he never felt he had anything of his own. Hyunwoo had been smart, popular. He had been wanted by so many and Kihyun had only wanted him. And after a while, he began to want Kihyun too. But there was something beautifully tragic there because Hyunwoo wanted others as well. Others beautiful like him. <em>I am one of my many mouths</em>, he would sing but Kihyun cared not for the song or the sentiment. He was too beautiful not to share his mouthful and past a certain point, Kihyun didn’t want to be one in a crowd of many thirsty for what he had to give. </p><p>“We loved each other but he… he wanted something else.” There. Safe. Let’s not sully the memory of the dead.  </p><p>“That’s not what I asked,” Daniel says gently.</p><p>Kihyun blinks.</p><p>“I asked what he was like,” Daniel asks again, a soft smile on his lips. </p><p>“He was…” beautiful. A cheat. A breaker of hearts. Kihyun's heart. “He was a good friend.”</p><p>Daniel smiles but does not press. “Were you happy with him?”</p><p>The immediate answer is <em>yes god yes he was all I ever wanted</em>. But there is a <em>but</em>. There is always a but and the but here is followed by <em>he did not make me happy</em>. But there is another but. <em>But that’s because I asked too much of him. He wasn’t ready. I was too much</em>. The realization that he has spoken out loud comes when Daniel speaks.</p><p>“Why do you think you’re too much, sweetheart?” </p><p> And Kihyun’s heart pounds. <em>He’s dead</em>, a voice berates him in his head, <em>he’s dead and look at you. Painting him out to be some kind of horrible monster in front of this two-bit whore. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?</em></p><p>But he hurt me, Kihyun argues back, am I not supposed to talk about my pain? And he’s not a whore, he’s my friend.</p><p>Friend? Kihyun looks at Daniel, patiently awaiting an answer on the other side. Were they friends?</p><p>“Are we friends?” he blurts out and he sounds like a child. It is humiliating. He closes his eyes and waits for Daniel to laugh at him. It never comes.</p><p>“I’d like to be,” is the reply. Kihyun opens his eyes. Daniel is smiling and it is honest and it feels safe. Safe to say what he wants and not be antagonized for it. </p><p>“T-thank you,” he realizes he is crying when his eyes have already brimmed over. This time, it is not grief but gratitude. He cries for a bit and Daniel lets him. Sits there and listens to him. </p><p>“I-” Kihyun begins again, swallowing the rest of his sobs, “I’m not- I’m too- I want too much,” it feels a relief to admit it out loud, to say it and not feel guilt for wanting. Daniel reaches forward and lays his palm flat against the glass. </p><p>“Come here?” and Kihyun slowly slides out of his chair on to the floor, stretching the cord and laying his palm against Daniel’s. He smiles. </p><p>“It’s okay to want things,” he says slowly, gently, as if speaking to a child. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. You can tell me.”</p><p>Kihyun sniffles and leans his forehead on the glass next to his palm. Breathes hard. </p><p>“I wanted him to want me,” he whispers. Blinks more tears out of his eyes. “But he- he wanted… more.”</p><p>“Kihyun,” Daniel’s voice is very soft. “What did he do?”</p><p>Kihyun holds his breath. Doesn’t speak for a very long time. </p><p>“I wasn't enough,” he begins shakily, “and he- he wanted more and I couldn’t blame him, you know?” He inhales sharply. “He was so beautiful and I was- I was <em>so sad</em>. Sad and angry because I was sad and I just… I couldn’t give him what he needed…”</p><p>A beat.</p><p>“What did he need?”</p><p>Kihyun considers it. “Love,” he says at last, “he needed love. And time. He wanted something different.”</p><p>“And you? What did you need?”</p><p>This one is simple. “Him.”</p><p>Daniel shakes his head. “That’s what you wanted, honey.” He looks right at Kihyun. “But what did you <em>need</em>?”</p><p>Kihyun furrows his brow, confused. “I don’t-”</p><p>He is interrupted by someone knocking insistently on the door behind Daniel. He gets to his feet, a sheepish smile on his lovely face.</p><p>“Time’s up. I gotta go before I get in trouble but,” he presses his hand against the mirror again, “come see me. Whenever you can. I’ll wait.” He bites his lip, uncertain. Exhales. “We’re friends now so… just come.”</p><p>With a final wave and a smile, he disappears behind the door, leaving Kihyun to stumble his way dazedly home.  </p><p> </p><p>Hyungwon and Hoseok come over but he refuses to open the door. Sits beneath the intercom and listens as Hyungwon’s requests to be let in turn to increasingly desperate pleas. Hoseok’s soft voice joins his, a little rough around the edges. He has been crying. Kihyun listens and waits for them to get tired and leave. Eventually, they do. By that time, Hoseok is crying again and Hyungwon’s voice breaks as he asks one last time. Kihyun sits there, beside his door, for what feels like hours. He thinks about his friends, of Hyunwoo. Finally, he arrives at Daniel. </p><p>What did he need? Was needing really that different from wanting something? You wanted what you needed. At least, that is how Kihyun had always felt. All his feelings, his needs and his wants, tangled up into an inextricable ball. He had spent all his life carefully curating himself around what Hyunwoo wanted, existing in context to his magnificence. Long before Hyunwoo’s bruised mouth touched his parched lips, he had wiped himself clean, scrubbed his being of anything that was himself, and therefore, inconsequential. He had drunk him in, let himself become <em>for</em> Hyunwoo. Need and want had perhaps existed separately for him, before Hyunwoo, before love. But when he thinks about it, he cannot recall a time before Hyunwoo, a time without him. It did not exist. <em>Kihyun</em> did not exist because he had been Hyunwoo’s Kihyun and nothing else. He had remained his when he had touched softer skin than Kihyun’s. When he had said he was not something to be owned <em>Jesus Kihyun, how selfish can you be I told you this isn’t what I wanted but you said you were okay with it I don’t understand why you can’t just accept this is who I am-</em></p><p>Kihyun thinks of that day on the bridge. Of languid love and his decision to not give himself over anymore. He stares down at his hands, at the lines etched into his palms. I was made for him, he thinks, I was made for him, I’m nothing without him, and is there really such a difference when everything began with him and buried itself with him? He could reject the river because the river was not him. But memories of him were not so easy to reject. Memories of him are all Kihyun has left. <em>I could die for you</em>, he would say and mean it and Hyunwoo would smile his wonderful smile and say <em>you should never have to</em>, knowing that he meant it and somehow ridiculing him for it.</p><p>And yet.</p><p>Why was he still alive, now that his sun had burnt out? His head begins to throb painfully. He has lived years believing he existed for one thing alone. And yet, here he was, breathing, feeling, thinking about something that was about himself and not Hyunwoo. Daniel had asked him about what <em>he</em> needed. </p><p>With Hyunwoo gone, was Kihyun even <em>allowed</em> to need anything else?</p><p>He feels bile rising in his throat when the realization comes. It is a horrible feeling, things, feelings, love for Hyunwoo, pouring out like blood. He cannot afford to lose it. It tastes bitter, like betrayal at the back of his throat, and Kihyun is nothing if not loyal, if only to spite Hyunwoo, who did not have a loyal bone in his body. But then, he never promised loyalty when Kihyun pledged his. What a mess, Kihyun, what a mess. </p><p>He sheds his clothes and dives into the bottom of his closet. Pulls out an old football jersey and buries his nose in the soft fabric. It smells like him still, as if he had worn it only yesterday. His body had been warm and Kihyun had gazed at it in wonder in the small hours of the night sometimes, Hyunwoo’s arms holding him close. <em>Safe</em>. It had always been so safe when they had lain together, breathing together in one bed, no third between them. It was always this comfort that Kihyun had fled to, when there had been an extra pair of hands, another, sweeter mouth, whispering against warm skin and Kihyun had wanted to scream <em>mine mine mine</em>, the lie burning summer-bright on his tongue. He would run to the safety of warm nights in bed. But night would run its course and it would be day again. <em>Time to let the light shine on my bitterness, disentangle my limbs from yours and let them carry you away.</em></p><p>Sitting there, in front of the closet they once shared, Kihyun feels a terrible urgency. He has to tell someone. He can feel himself unraveling like a spool of thread and he wants to tell someone before it strips him away of everything. In all his failed attempts to kill himself, there had been a distinct feeling of control. He had been purposeless, yes, but there had been something to attach this purposelessness to. <em>Someone</em>, no matter how hollow, to kill. Now, with Hyunwoo gone, he is a blank slate again. Except there is no scribe this time, and Kihyun is terrified. </p><p>He is breathless, gulping in the heavy purple air when he staggers into a booth. It is a hotel room today but he barely registers it. Looks to the door in front of him and waits, his entire body on fire. When Daniel enters in a black silk robe, Kihyun falls to his knees against the glass and breathes hard. </p><p>“Hi! I’ve been-”</p><p>“I don’t know what I need.” Kihyun forces himself to stay calm but it is not working. Deep breaths. “I don’t- I don’t know- I don’t know what I need-”</p><p>Daniel’s eyes widen and he inches closer to the glass. “Hey, hey, calm down, it’s okay just breathe, baby. Deep breaths. Come on, deep breaths.”</p><p>And Kihyun tries but it’s not working. His hands pull at his collar. There is no air and he desperately needs to breathe. His breath quivers and dissolves into a mess of coughs and sputters. Daniel is looking increasingly afraid, palm pressed flat against the glass and lips mouthing something Kihyun cannot hear. He holds the receiver with trembling hands and faintly hears words.</p><p>“-eathe, breathe, Kihyun for god’s sake, please <em>breathe</em>, oh god-”</p><p>Kihyun listens to his voice and only his voice. Trains his ears on whatever words drop from Daniel’s mouth like waterfalls of worry. Tries to breathe again. He does not know how long it takes but finally, Daniel is cursing in relief, his limbs sagging against the glass. He looks close to tears. </p><p>“Kihyun,” his voice is shaking as he paws at the glass. Sniffles. “Kihyun?”</p><p>A long, deep breath, an almost perfect exhale, and Kihyun finally speaks. “I- I’m here…”</p><p>“You scared the ever-living <em>fuck</em> out of me! Are you okay?? Do you wanna go home?? I can get off early and take you home-”</p><p>“I’m okay.” Kihyun clears his throat. “I’m- I had a- I haven’t had a panic at-attack in a while, sorry.”</p><p>Daniel smirks but it is slightly watery. “Jesus. You live like this?”</p><p>Kihyun chuckles weakly. “Yeah. Yeah, I do, I guess.” He looks up at the boy and feels the urgency again but it is a lot calmer now. He takes a deep breath. “Daniel I- I don’t know what I need. When I look inside me, there is nothing. It is all him. Him and pieces I collected for him. I don’t-” he feels panic rising in his gut again, “I don’t even know who I am, what I am. Am I even here? Is this real, are you real?”</p><p>He knocks his forehead against the glass, tears streaming down his face. “Daniel, are you real or did I build myself a myth again?”</p><p>There is no answer for a long moment. Kihyun does not dare look up, fearing that the boy has left. Then, finally he speaks. </p><p>“Would you like me to prove I’m real, Kihyun?”</p><p>Kihyun looks up. In the warm, golden light of the set, he looks like a dream, his effervescence multiplied tenfold by the wall of glass between them. He looks like a creature of the purples and greens of this liminal space between the twinkling city and its sleeping people. Kihyun does not know what he will do if Daniel is a dream too. He decides he needs to know before he goes insane. </p><p>“Please.”</p><p>Daniel smiles and gets to his feet and terror seizes Kihyun’s heart. But then he speaks again, soft and sincere. “I want you to go wait outside. I’ll be there in a bit, I promise. Can you do that for me?”</p><p>Kihyun is not sure if this is another trick. Was Daniel tired of him? Was this his way of telling Kihun goodbye? He recalls a fleeting memory of a long June afternoon, Hyunwoo by the door, his face blank. Desperate words. <em>To say goodbye to each other is to deny separation</em> but also <em>I can’t do this anymore, you’re suffocating me, Kihyun.</em> Hyunwoo’s broad back disappearing around the corner and Kihyun, broken in half but held together by a glimmering ray of hope. <em>Today we play at separating but we will see each other again</em> but they had not and Kihyun had learned that day that the hammer of death can pound the most ephemeral of promises into everlasting grief.</p><p>“Kihyun? Can you wait for me outside, honey?”</p><p>But this is now. This is here. A myth or mirage, he was living this moment. And for now, that was all that mattered.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Out he stumbles, on to the neon street where dreams are created and sold. Breathing in the scents and sounds of the night around him, he spends the longest minutes of his entire life. Tries to keep count but the numbers on his watch are all leering faces and chant all his past mistakes at him. They recount all the stories he has told himself over the years, all the myths he has built and was Daniel not just another in a long line of lies? His name, his face, his clothes, nothing was real. Misgivings from his first night in the purple paradise invade his mind again, and Kihyun slumps against the wall. It was all so elaborate a setup. Dreams like Daniel did not exist outside of the blinking space between dusk and dawn. He was not coming. He would never come. How could he, when here, next to Kihyun, he would not even <em>be</em> ‘Daniel’? </p><p>And so he collects the shattered pieces of his wonderful dream. But now, he knows what must be done. He thinks of peace and perennial silence. As he makes his way toward the road, he thinks of who he is and who he has been and realizes that the answers would never come, nor does he want them to. If there was nothing for him to end, he could at least put his mortal body out of its misery. The noises around him are deafening and lights flash painfully in his eyes but sleep is swifter. </p><p> </p><p>In his dreams, he is back in that long June afternoon. Hyunwoo, unreachably lovely, stands by the door. His lips are moving. <em>Where are you going?</em> And really, why would he ask that when he knows Kihyun would say <em>to you, I’m coming to you.</em></p><p>In Hyunwoo’s hands is an enormous flower that drips golden honey on to his palm. </p><p><em>These days of candy live in your mind</em> and he presses the flower to Kihyun’s chest where it sticks and beats like a heart full of love. Kihyun feels elation like never before. Cradles the flower as it beats to the rhythm of Hyunwoo’s heart.  </p><p>
  <em>If you were to never see me outside of this dream, would you die for me?</em>
</p><p>And he is falling apart like neon dust and Kihyun screams. Reaches for him. <em>I’m dying for you!</em> But Hyunwoo smiles and says <em>but can’t you see? I put my heart in your hands and my name on your tongue</em>.</p><p>There is nothing to hold, only a long, June afternoon, and a voice that whispers <em>now tell me why you really want to die, Kihyun.</em></p><p> </p><p>It is terrible pity but he wakes up. </p><p>There are faces at the edge of his vision and they look like his friends. Irrationally, he searches for another one among them. Reddened lips and glittering eyes behind a glass case, but he is awake and not dreaming anymore. Someone reaches forward and takes his hand slowly.</p><p>“Ki?” Hoseok. Beside him, Hyungwon. Will they cry over him? But he had lived. </p><p>“Hey,” his voice is hoarse, breath knocking against nasogastric tubing. He cannot move his neck and his body feels like it is asleep. Hyungwon is speaking.</p><p>“Do you want to rest? We can come later.” But Kihyun shakes his head. It was finally time to speak. He had delayed this long enough. </p><p>“Sit. Let’s talk.”</p><p>Hoseok is still clutching his hand and Hyungwon eases him off. They sit down around him and Kihyun thinks of what he wants to say. There had been a widening gulf of silence between him and his friends for a very long time. As he retreated into his cotton padded cell of Hyunwoo’s memory, he had felt no need to confide his feelings in anyone. Sharing Hyunwoo was something he had spent most of his life doing. After his passing, he could finally be selfish, keep him to himself, not talk of him to anyone, especially people who had been Hyunwoo’s friends before they had been Kihyun’s. Hoseok and Hyungwon had given him space. Time, at his own behest. How well had that worked out, Kihyun thinks bitterly. He had lost Hyunwoo, and had been well on his way to losing the only two people who cared as he built monuments to his undying love.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he finally rasps out. Hoseok looks ready to interrupt him but he speaks again. “I- I need to say this, Hoseokkie. Will you- will both of you listen?”</p><p>Hyungwon nods wordlessly as Hoseok stares at his hands and does the same. Kihyun tries to smile, although he is sure it looks like a grimace.</p><p>“I was… I’m sure you know now but- I was trying to kill myself.” Hyungwon’s lip quivers but he stays silent. Kihyun continues. “I couldn’t. Not for lack of trying, no,” Kihyun laughs but it soon turns into a cough. He shakes his head before either of the two can fetch the doctor. “I’m fine I- it’s my throat. Dry.” He swallows. “I don’t know how to say this to you both but… it felt like the right thing to do, you know? He was… he was gone and with him, my e-every t-thing.”</p><p>He stops and squeezes his eyes shut. It was no easier admitting it out loud than it was inside his head. He feels a warm hand clasp his and takes a deep breath. Continues. “You know I was- I didn’t know h-how to live a life without him. Dying felt right but the pain…” He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling “And then I met someone in a dream,” he smiles, thinks of the color purple and a deep voice in a yellowed telephone set. “And he asked me why I really wanted to die and I did not know. He asked me what I needed and I did not know. I felt so empty, like I had nothing.”</p><p>“You have us, you asshole,” Hoseok says, sniffling. Kihyun smiles again.</p><p>“Yeah, Seokkie. I do,” he looks at Hyungwon who is still silent. “I have you and… and I also have him. Pieces of him. And it felt so unfair to be bogged down by his memories when all I wanted was to follow him into the dark. But it felt... wrong. It was supposed to put me at ease and it didn’t and now I know why.”</p><p>He looks at Hyungwon and then at Hoseok and smiles sadly. “I think now of all the times I thought of what I wanted and it was always him. To be his shadow was all I wanted. I never once thought of what <em>I</em> needed. And it was a simple thing, really. I needed to be loved, to be wanted. But he could not do it. He needed something else and it was so unfair to ask him for something I knew he couldn’t provide.”</p><p>“Bullshit,” Hyungwon finally says, “There’s nothing wrong with what you wanted. Don’t you dare fucking blame yourself for his choices.”</p><p>Kihyun chuckles. “Right? It really is that simple. There was nothing wrong with what either of us wanted. If we had parted ways in earlier, better days, we could have both been happy.” He looks at the two again, tears threatening to flow. “But all of that is meaningless now, isn’t it? All I have left is a hole where he used to be and only one road to take. And it doesn’t lead to him. It can’t.”</p><p>Hoseok comes forward and hugs him as gently as he can, mindful of the tubes and needles, as Kihyun cries softly. Hyungwon shifts to take his hand and they all cry together, mourning a friend, a lover, a myth, and a memory. For the first time since the funeral, they are together in their grief. Here, in the stark, white hospital room, there are no doors, no walls between them. Kihyun thinks of another wall made of glass, a face and a voice that he had deemed just another fantasy and cries harder. </p><p> </p><p>They visit him when Kihyun can walk again. </p><p>He leans on crutches, Hoseok keeping a careful eye on him, in case he lost his balance. Hyungwon carries the flowers. They weave their way among the headstones and arrive at his. Kihyun stands before it, the cold wind lifting and pulling at his hair as he reads the epitaph. </p><p>
  <em>But something, or an infinite number of things, dies in every death, unless the universe is possessed of a memory.</em>
</p><p>And had Kihyun not inherited his memory? A song in a taxicab bound for death. <em>A world inside you, no photograph</em>. A universe crafted for a beautiful man and Kihyun, watching as he became beautiful too. Saw himself flourish like an artist struck by inspiration. Between all the sadness and the guilt, there was the simpler, gentler fact that even if he was cut from Hyunwoo’s cloth, it was his mind that had furnished the world inside him, made him who he was. A muse could only do so much as inspire, after all. <em>I who have been so many men in vain, want to be one man: myself!</em> And God had replied <em>I dreamed the world as you dreamed your work, my Shakespeare, and among the shapes of my dream, are you, who, like me, are many persons – and none.</em></p><p>Hyungwon places the flowers on the stone and steps back. The three of them stand for long moments, as the wind keeps blowing and time continues to flow around them. Kihyun leans his head on Hyungwon’s shoulder. Hoseok cries silently on his other side. Kihyun thinks of the road he is supposed to take, that stretches far ahead of him, as far as the eye can see. His grief splays its legs in the backseat and memory joins it. Kihyun looks to the empty passenger side and it is all the answer he needs. </p><p> </p><p>Hoseok looks slightly apprehensive as he parks around the corner of the familiar street. It looks oddly sanitized in daylight, despite the grime, as if it packs up its chest of secrets with the darkness and disappears as day breaks. Kihyun reaches for the door and opens it. </p><p>“Are you sure you’re in the right place?” Hoseok asks again. </p><p>“Yeah. Just wait here.”</p><p>Hyungwon joins him as he heads to the door. Pushes it open and enters. Almost immediately, he is stopped by a man with a menacing look on his baby face. </p><p>“We don’t open until 6, sir,” he says gruffly. </p><p>Hyungwon moves forward defensively. “We’re here to see a friend.” </p><p>The man looks unconvinced and looks ready to throw them out when Kihyun interrupts desperately. “Look I just want to talk to Daniel. I used to come here, he knows me, I can wait here. Just tell him its Kihyun, he’ll recognize me.”</p><p>He realizes belatedly that he only sounds like a rebuffed customer who had stalked this young boy. The bouncer takes a step toward him, no doubt to push them out. Hyungwon is about to argue some more when a blond head peeks around the corner of the hallway.</p><p>“’Kihyun’? Did he say ‘Kihyun’?” The bouncer glances at the newcomer as Kihyun looks over his shoulder. He does not recognize the man at all as he walks toward them, a scowl marring his pretty face.</p><p>“Are you the bastard that had a panic attack in the booth that one time?” he almost snarls.</p><p>The bouncer asks “that’s him?” the same time as Hyungwon whirls around on Kihyun and says “panic attack?”</p><p>Kihyun ignores him. “Yes. It’s me. Please can I-”</p><p>The next second is a blur of blond hair and Hyungwon’s surprised yelp as Kihyun staggers backwards against the wall, his crutches clattering to the ground. His nose is throbbing, burning red-hot beneath his fingers but it is nothing compared to the fury in the blond man’s eyes.</p><p>“How fucking dare you show your face around here after tormenting that poor boy like that?” he spits as Hyungwon helps Kihyun up. “You selfish bastard, how fucking dare you?”</p><p>Kihyun groans in pain, ignoring Hyungwon’s pleas to get back to the car. He has to see Daniel. </p><p>“Please, I can explain-”</p><p>“You can get the fuck out. You scare the crap out of him with your little stunt and then pull a disappearing act and now you think you can just barge in here like this, demanding to see him?” The man takes a step forward and Kihyun cowers. “He thought you’d killed yourself, you asshole. He hasn’t shown up to work since then. And even if he had I’d never have let you see him. Now leave before I have you thrown out.”</p><p>No amount of begging and groveling can convince him to tell Kihyun where Daniel lives. He cries against Hyungwon’s chest on the way back, guilt clawing angrily at his insides. He has to find the boy, tell him he knows what he needs now. And this time, ask him if he needs the same thing. Hyungwon persuades him to come to work again, hoping it will distract him but it only intensifies his desire to find Daniel. Every evening after work, he goes to the same alley and waits until the small hours of the early morning. He sees people come and go, strippers and customers alike. Young men and women who enter with fresh faces and come out at dawn, washed up, tired, their eyelids sagging underneath layers of makeup. </p><p>Running on very little sleep and barely any hope of finding the boy, he finally manages to anger the usually easygoing Hyungwon, who corners him in the board room after a meeting one Friday morning.</p><p>“Okay, that’s it. I’ve given you enough time. I’ve let you go to that hole in the wall every fucking evening. I’ve let you treat food and sleep like they’re fucking <em>optional</em>. I have not said a word because I know finding that boy is important to you but it has been 4 <em>months</em>, Kihyun. What the hell are you doing to yourself?”</p><p>Kihyun looks at him, the rational part of his brain knowing he is right. The resident idiot, however, wants to pick a fight anyway. </p><p>“What do you think I’m doing?”</p><p>Hyungwon scoffs. “You won’t like it when I say it.”</p><p>“No, no. Go ahead. Say it.”</p><p>A beat. Then:</p><p>“You’re obsessing over him like you did over Hyunwoo.”</p><p>And deep down, Kihyun knows that he is right, at least in part. Kihyun is projecting, still thinking that maybe the boy is his saving grace. Still, it doesn’t hurt any less when Hyungwon says it out loud.</p><p>“Ki,” he says now, softer, “look I get it, okay? I get that he helped you and you want to make things right. But you have no idea who he is outside of that place or where he lives. How do you expect to find him in a city as big as this?”</p><p>Kihyun remains silent, staring at the floor. Hyungwon sighs. </p><p>“Look, why don’t you come over for dinner at our place. Gives me an excuse to make Hoseok cook anything other than ramen, honestly.”</p><p>Reluctantly, Kihyun agrees. They stop at a grocery store for ingredients to make pasta and Hyungwon browses the shelves as Kihyun pushes the cart halfheartedly. He is still thinking of the club when he bumps into another cart turning the corner. Immediately dissolves into a mess of apologies.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking-”</p><p>“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”</p><p>Kihyun feels the earth shift with an almighty lurch beneath him. Swallows and peers into the stranger’s face. His hair is dark now, longer, his pockmarked cheeks free of makeup. A pair of prescription glasses perched on his rather long nose. He still asks, fearful, hesitant.</p><p>“Daniel?”</p><p>The stranger blinks fast, mutters “sorry, you’ve got the wrong person”, and bolts back down the aisle, his cart abandoned. Kihyun has a moment to process it before he takes off running after him. It is him, he is sure of it. He follows him out of the store and down the street outside, calling desperately. It isn’t long, however, before his still weak leg gives out and he trips on the sidewalk.</p><p>“Please,” he screams, ignoring the stares from onlookers, “please let me explain, please!”</p><p>There are people gathering slowly and behind him, he can hear Hyungwon calling but all that matters is that the boy has stopped a few feet away, panting hard and staring at him, wide-eyed. Kihyun hastily pushes himself to his feet and hobbles up to him. He takes a step back. </p><p>“Please,” Kihyun pleads, “I just want to talk, please I’ve been looking for you for so long.”</p><p>The boy’s eyes dart around them, at the people and finally, at Hyungwon, who has caught up.</p><p>“Ki what the <em>fuck</em>-”</p><p>“Let me explain, please,” Kihyun reaches out a hand to the boy who looks increasingly wary of him, looking from him to Hyungwon. The latter, for his part, is now staring in shock.</p><p>“Is that him?!”</p><p>Kihyun ignores him again, still looking at the boy. “Daniel?”</p><p>The boy winces as if in pain and Hyungwon throws up his hands in frustration. </p><p>“Oh don't mind me, I absolutely <em>love</em> not being acknowledged. I’ll be in the car.” He walks away, grumbling to himself. Kihyun has still not taken his eyes off the boy. He looks even younger without the garb of professionalism. Soft, apprehensive, wary like a cornered animal. Kihyun’s heart thuds in his chest.</p><p>“You don’t have to believe me,” he says gently, taking a step toward him, “I was incredibly inconsiderate. I worried you and then disappeared and I just- I just want to explain, Daniel-”</p><p>“That’s not my name,” he interrupts in his low, deep voice and Kihyun feels a strange sort of relief wash over him at the sound of it. </p><p>“Alright,” he says with a tentative smile, “alright uh I was about to have dinner. We can- I mean if you want-”</p><p>The boy looks at him and then nods silently after a long moment. Kihyun beams. </p><p>He informs a miffed Hyungwon, who rolls his eyes and drives away as Kihyun hails a cab. The ride to the restaurant is quiet, the boy looking out the window and playing absently with the strings of his hoodie. Kihyun wants to say something but does not know what. He settles on the easiest option.</p><p>“May I ask your name?”</p><p>The boy looks at him, startled eyes behind his glasses. He blinks and chews on his bottom lip.</p><p>“Uh… Changkyun,” he says at last. Kihyun smiles and nods.</p><p>“Changkyun.” </p><p>They don’t speak again until they are seated at a table tucked away in a quiet corner. Kihyun places their orders and waits for the server to leave. </p><p>“I uh, I should probably explain myself,” he begins slowly. Changkyun regards him from the other side of the table, face blank. Kihyun clears his throat.</p><p>“That day I came to tell you that I- I didn’t know what I needed after all.” He picks at the tablecloth. Pauses. “I went outside and waited and it seemed to stretch on forever… I thought you had gotten rid of me-”</p><p>Changkyun blinks, face still blank. “I was looking for my friend to cover for me. It was hardly twenty minutes.”</p><p>Kihyun feels his neck burn with embarrassment. “I- I realize that now, I do. But back then I was- I was falling apart. I had no idea who I was and what was real and I just… I didn’t know what to do.” He looks up at Changkyun. “So I- I stepped in front of a car.”</p><p>Changkyun inhales sharply, his eyes narrowing. Kihyun looks away and continues.</p><p>“It was a couple of days until I woke up. Longer to adequately heal. I had so much to repair. I had been an idiot, a massive fool, but my friends,” he smiles, eyes watering, “they may be bigger fools. They forgave me.” </p><p>“Why were you looking for me when you finally had your life together?” Changkyun asks, his tone measured. Kihyun’s heart skips a few beats and grows uncomfortably warm.</p><p>“It was you,” he whispers. “If you hadn’t asked that question I wouldn’t even have considered a p-possibility of- of a life like this.” He takes a deep breath. “I finally know what I need, Changkyun.”</p><p>Changkyun looks at him, expression still guarded. “And what’s that?”</p><p>Kihyun laughs breathlessly. “Reasons not to die.”</p><p>Changkyun stares and chews on his bottom lip, his brows furrowed in confusion.</p><p>“And what does that mean?”</p><p>“It means that it doesn't have to end with a dream,” He shakes his head, a soft smile spreading on his lips. “I've spent years killing myself every day and it hurt <em>so much</em>. It hurt him too because he never asked for it. And after he was gone, I built him a shrine. Kept telling myself it was real, that he had hurt me when really, I hurt myself by lying to him and telling him I wanted the same things.”</p><p>“What did he want?”</p><p>“He didn’t want to commit,” and there it is. It feels liberating. “He didn’t want to be tied down. He made it very clear that he couldn’t give me what I was looking for. Stability and a promise that he was mine. I loved him so much I thought it would be okay as long as I was with him but it wasn’t. You see, unlike Hyunwoo, I was selfish.”</p><p>“It’s okay to want things, Kihyun,” Changkyun says quietly, his eyes downcast. Kihyun feels his heart swell. Reaches over and hesitantly touches Changkyun’s hand fiddling with the stem of his glass. He looks up, startled, but does not shake Kihyun off.</p><p>“Yes,” Kihyun says, smiling warmly, “it’s okay to want things. And I don’t want to dig myself into a grave chasing a dream.” He slowly loops his fingers through Changkyun’s. “His memory will always stay but I cannot allow myself to keep the myths.”</p><p>A slow, tentative smile spreads across Changkyun’s lips. “And me? Am I a myth too?”</p><p>Kihyun leans forward and properly takes his hand. Gives it a gentle squeeze. “No. No you're not.”</p><p>Their food arrives and they eat in companionable silence, exchanging hesitant smiles and small talk. He learns that Changkyun lost his job at the club because he had disappeared without notice the day after Kihyun left. He works at a used bookstore now and is studying theoretical physics. He asks about Kihyun’s accident and is morbidly interested in all the gory details. Later, Kihyun hesitantly asks if he wants to come over and then immediately realizes how that sounds and apologizes profusely. Changkyun stands there on the sidewalk and laughs delightedly. </p><p>“No offense, Kihyun, but I don’t think you could be an axe murderer even if you tried,” he pinches Kihyun’s upper arm and Kihyun squeals, going red. “See? I could easily overpower you.”</p><p>Kihyun rubs his sore arm, ears blazing red. “Should I be wary of you then?”  </p><p>Changkyun laughs again, eyes going soft. “Don’t worry. I’ll only kiss you if you ask me to.”</p><p>Kihyun sputters and considers it safer to just order the cab and not look at Changkyun for a minute. In the car, he resolutely looks out the window, his cheeks burning, as he searches for the boy’s hand and grips it loosely. His heart stutters when Changkyun tightens his grip. It is just past 9 when they enter Kihyun’s apartment. He watches, gaze fond, as Changkyun walks around with childlike wonder on his face. </p><p>“You didn’t tell me you were fucking loaded?!”</p><p>Kihyun chuckles. Joins him at the kitchen island where he is looking at the appliances. “My parents. I have done little, especially since last year.”</p><p>“Well, tell me something you like to do besides being depressed in a million dollar apartment.”</p><p>“I write music,” Kihyun laughs, “and I play the piano. I was classically trained.”</p><p>Changkyun looks at him, eyes narrowed. “Oh now you’re just trying to show my pleb ass up.”</p><p>Kihyun shakes his head, still laughing, and heads to the living room. The sleek piano against the far wall has not been touched in a year. Kihyun goes over to it and sits. Changkyun joins him on the bench.</p><p>“Hyunwoo loved to sing.” The memory is golden and warm, his voice clear as day. “I wrote and arranged a song for his birthday a few years ago.” He turns to Changkyun, “would you like to hear it?”</p><p>Changkyun nods, his gaze mystified. Kihyun opens the lid and tries to recall the song. <em>Our song</em>, he had said, and Hyunwoo had hugged him from behind as he played it for him. It had been difficult to think of. Each time Hyunwoo’s voice sang in his ears, he had wanted to shut it out. Now, with Changkyun sitting next to him, he lets it sing, moves his fingers over the keys as Hyunwoo’s voice admonishes him gently. <em>If you built yourself a myth, you’d know just what to give.</em></p><p>How ironic, to have written down his pain and not to have seen it for what it was. Hyunwoo sings, his voice flowing, urging Kihyun to sing along like he used to. And so he sings. But this time, instead of a sunflower gazing at its sun, it’s merely Kihyun gazing at Changkyun. </p><p>
<em>Can't keep hanging on to all that's dead and gone.</em>
</p><p>Is this where he is supposed to go now? Would the boy before him come with? There is a question in his eyes like the one on his lips and as he finishes the song, Changkyun leans forward and presses his lips gently to his cheek. Kisses it again. Kisses his forehead. Kihyun cries silently, hands pressing discordantly on the piano keys before Changkyun takes them in his and holds them. They sit there for a long time, Kihyun’s forehead against Changkyun’s shoulder, rocking gently back and forth.</p><p>“I can’t make the same mistake again,” Kihyun whispers hoarsely, hands tightening in the front of Changkyun’s hoodie, “I can’t ask you to be something you are not.” He looks up. “So please,” he straightens up and smiles. “Help me to name it.”</p><p>Changkyun looks at him, his face open and honest. He is silent for a long time, his brow knit together. For the first time in his life, however, Kihyun is patient. Knows it is not his decision to make. For the first time in his life, he is happy to be patient and wait. Changkyun finally speaks.</p><p>“I’ve never done anything that I didn’t want to do,” he begins, eyes trained on Kihyun, “I ran away from home years ago because I wanted change. I used to strip because I liked to. I’m still in school because I want a degree. Everything I do is of my own volition so,” he edges closer and cups Kihyun’s face, “when I say I want to try this with you, I mean it.” he runs the pads of his thumbs gently across Kihyun’s cheekbones and bites back a smile. “And the only thing I want right now is to kiss the fuck out of you. Will you let me?”</p><p>Kihyun laughs, breathless. “Yes, yes, yes.”</p><p>When they kiss, it is everything and nothing all at once. Changkyun kisses him like he has been kissed a million times before but he tastes like slow autumn love that burns dim but never goes out. His hands are tender on Kihyun’s face, brushing the remains of years crusted beneath his eyes. Kihyun reaches out to touch him, shifts himself between his legs, secures them around his waist and picks him up. Changkyun giggles against his lips as he bumps into the couch before toppling on to it. They laugh as Changkyun moves to straddle him, kissing him again and just as deep. </p><p>“This.” A kiss. “Wasn’t.” Another. “Planned, I swear.”</p><p>Changkyun pulls away, his mouth rosy and spit-slick. “Do I look like I give a shit?” And Kihyun can only gasp softly as he dives back in, his tongue licking into Kihyun’s mouth and hands tangling in Kihyun’s hair. He feels himself dissolving as Changkyun kisses the hurt out of him, unmakes him and remakes him. They sit there for hours, wrapped up in each other, lips pressed against lips and soft whispers of <em>please, please, please</em>. </p><p>Kihyun opens his eyes, unaware of having fallen asleep and dawn is on the horizon. The watery rays of a new sun fall lance-like through the window behind him. In his arms, is what was once immaterial. And as the sun comes up and lights up the room around them, Kihyun watches with baited breath as Changkyun breathes on his chest, his hair tickling Kihyun’s chin. Gently, Kihyun tightens his arms around him, sliding himself lower on the couch so he sleeps more comfortably, warm, a solid weight against him. He is there, he is real. Hasn’t vanished, dream-like, into the folds of the departing darkness. Kihyun presses a kiss to his forehead and lets the honey of sleep overcome him. Somewhere from the depths of his memory, Hyunwoo still sings of days of candy and finally, it is as lovely as it was back then.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yes i know kihyun didn't write myth by beach house but just go with it. kudos to anyone who locates MinJoo cos they're here too </p><p>find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/ajghar1">Twitter</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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